Don't Look Back
by percychased
Summary: Things between them are tentative and new, not at all set in steel, but in a time of toil and trouble, it's the best they can ask for - there is no second chances. For Cassie, through GGE.


**Don't Look Back**

* * *

THE DAILY PROPHET - DECEMBER 23RD, 1979

THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS OF LYALL AND HOPE LUPIN REGRET TO ANNOUNCE THEIR SUDDEN PASSING ON DECEMBER 18TH, 1979. THEY ARE SURVIVED BY ONE SON, REMUS (B. 1960). THEY WILL BE CREMATED AND BURIED IN ROCKY HILL CEMENTARY, OUTSIDE OF MANCHESTER. THERE WILL BE NO FUNERAL.

The notice was short, like all others around it; in these times, they couldn't afford to make them long. There simply wasn't enough room. Three sentences, Remus thought, wasn't enough. It wasn't close to enough - his parents deserved more that three sentences on page fifteen of the Daily Prophet. They deserved a whole daily paper about them, and Sirius would call him sappy but he'd write about the smell of his mother's cookies and how his father was an absolute mess in the kitchen, and his mother found it hilarious.

Remus buried his head deeper in between his knees, caging himself with his arms behind his neck. One week ago he was there, in that house, quiet as usual while Sirius joked with his father and his mother fretted about the security of the charms she'd placed around their family home.

One week ago. Closer to a lifetime, he thought. He couldn't fathom all that had happened just in this week alone - his parents, the discovery of Lily's pregnancy, the hasty marriage between Dorcas Meadowes and Fabian Prewett, attended by exactly twenty people, including himself.

Merlin. He could smell the anxiety in the air, the worry and the fear and the hopelessness. It was everywhere and nowhere; he couldn't exactly say what it smelt like, but it was another disadvantage of his problem.

"Mate, we have to go," Sirius said quietly, looking solemn. James and Lily were in a meeting with Dumbledore, and Peter had told them he was visiting his grandmother in Kent. "The Aurors are coming to investigate the house. We need to leave. As badass as Kingsley is, he won't want us here for the investigation."

The Dark Mark loomed over the house like a cold blanket, dark and chill. There were goosebumps on his skin, and the rational side of him told him his best mate was right; they'd better leave, before the Aurors come, before the Death Eaters come back again.

Suddenly, there was nails digging into his forearm and he was wrenched off the couch, stumbling sideways into Sirius. He can feel the half-moons of his fingernails making little red marks in his skin, and the pain is surprisingly welcome. It was better than the numbness that he can't shake one bit, the numbness that doesn't change anything but instead makes him feel empty, hollow.

"You aren't giving up on me," muttered Sirius, "not now. Not right now." And there was a sort of desperation in his voice that he'd never heard before, something like hands pulling on his robes. Invisible hands, pulling him closer. Pushing the grey away.

He hit his head on the low door frame, and with that came a shock of pain; not in his head, where it should hurt, but deep, hidden in his chest, an icy breeze of pain ripping and clawing his heart open and he remembers when he was younger, sixteen and seventeen, awkwardly running into the door frame because of his height and his mother's loud, amused laughter, and her stating that she's damn well glad she's short.

The clouds rumbled grey, rolling in from the west. They encompassed the entire sky. The sun was devoid of existence, and everything is just _so goddamn grey._

Sirius was clutching his wand as his grip moved to Remus's forearm, and he was holding on tight.

"We're Apparating back to headquarters," said Sirius. Remus was silent.

With a familiar pull and tug, they landed behind the building and knocked exactly four times, hidden on the back landing.

A red-headed man peered through the keyhole. "Sirius, when is Marlene McKinnon's cat's birthday, and what are you planning to celebrate it with?"

"January 22nd, 1975, and I'm planning an elaborate princess party for Mimsie's fifth."

The door swung open to reveal a grinning Gideon Prewett.

"Only you would even try to hold a birthday part for that miserable beast," he laughed. Sirius smirked, entering with Remus following close behind him.

"Speak of the devil," Sirius mumbled, watching the rather moody cat prance through the meeting room of the headquarters with her tail in the air.

"Where is everyone?" asked Sirius, plopping Mimsie on his lap and stroking her fur while Remus sat on the sofa next to him.

Gideon sat on the table, cross-legged. "Fabian and Dorcas are at home, right now; it's my guarding time, now. So are James and Lily. Marlene and Emmeline are on a mission. Dumbledore's... somewhere. And so is Peter," Gideon shrugged. "I'm not the best source for information, although I do know something-"

"You _know _something?" Sirius asked, leaning back dramatically.

"Fabian was shocked too. I know, I know. It got through my thick skull. Anywho, what I was going to say - we know where Dolohov's hitting next. Lily's source of information came through, and they have no clue we know. Dolohov, Gibbon and a few others of the same sort are planning on hitting the Basilica in Manchester tomorrow."

There was a stagnant silence after. Everyone in the Order knew what happened then; it was a Muggle fun-killing, just for enjoyment.

Just like a game, thought Remus. Like hunting. He growled under his breath, and Sirius turned to him, not at all surprised with the low rumble.

"Sunday church service," said Gideon, grimly, picking lint off of his dark blue robes. "About 250 Muggles will be there. It's your assignment, Sirius. Remus, you too. James as well, Fabian and I, Marlene and Dorcas, and Peter. I think."

Remus jerked his head up at the sound of his name. An assignment. He reached into the pocket of his robe, tightening his hand around his wand.

Sirius turned to him, shifting his whole body. Remus looked up, and he could tell what Sirius was trying to tell him; he could prevent the killings of more Muggles. They could prevent senseless killings, senseless violence, more people suffering the way he was right now, four days after the death of his parents.

Remus nodded. After all, he'd never been one to turn down a mission, especially not when the times were tough. If he knew he was anything (besides a werewolf, of course) he knew he was a Gryffindor.

:.:

"Lily's upset," said James, as a greeting.

"Oh, good morning to you too. I'm fine, thanks for asking. How are you?" replied Sirius, jokingly. James smirked.

"I know you're fine," he said. "She wants to come, but there's no way she's leaving that house pregnant. At all. I said no -"

"Not that she listens, of course," interrupted Sirius.

"- and so did Dumbledore. She's at headquarters right now, stewing."

"Basilica St. Peter," said Remus, his voice rusty with disuse. He'd barely spoken for the last three or four days, minus a few conversations. "It's in a heavily populated area, and no doubt there will be Muggles milling about."

"We'll have to be careful," said Fabian, crossing his arms.

"When are we not?" asked Gideon. Marlene entered the Prewett home, tumbling out of the Floo haphazardly and giving Gideon a quick peck.

"Very true, brother."

"Remember," said James, "backups. Remus and Peter, Sirius and I, Fabian and Gideon, Marlene and Dorcas. We're assigning one pair to each Death Eater; we have an estimate of four. It's going to be a quick job they're aiming for, just a Reducto curse and a Morsmorde. We need to be there before them, or this will all go to waste."

Everyone nodded. The room was thick with anxiety. No matter how many times Remus did this, no matter the severity of the mission or how many lives were at risk, there was still a feeling in the room that almost suffocated him.

They took their spots. They waited; the twins made brilliant disillusionment charms. From his waiting spot, Remus watched the Muggles, dressed to the nines in their Sunday finest, enter the church. Aging couples, just like his parents.

No. He couldn't do this now, let the self-deprecating numbness get the best of him.

He felt a familiar hand shaking his shoulders.

Only a brief whisper in his ear, his breath tickling the shell of it. "Not now, Moony."

Remus rubbed his wrist raw in anxiety, watching the minutes tick past as the Muggles went into the Basilica, the last few stragglers coming in, holding down hats and walking hand-in-hand with children of all ages.

Seeing the people that could possibly die furthered the significance of this mission; he couldn't do this anymore.

Cackling was what they heard first. These were obviously not the two smartest; while invisible, they were loud and coming from overhead. The charmwork of Marlene revealed them, flying around the top of the Basilica.

James was right; there was four of them. Remus recognized, on first glance, Dolohov, Gibbon, and MacNair. Another young one was flying around with them.

Spells streaked past, and Remus fleetingly wondered about what the Muggles saw when they saw lights flashing around the Basilica. Peter and himself took on Gibbon.

Gibbon smiled - actually smiled, in a disgusting way that showed off the yellow crookedness of his teeth - and threw back his head in laughter as he dueled.

"Mummy and daddy are dead, aren't they?" He laughed. There was that horrible tightening in his chest as his muscles became taut and stiff. The blood running through his veins ran cold, and he knew immediately; this was the man that killed his parents. Both of them.

"They screamed for a bit," said Gibbon, blase and bored, like he'd done this a million or so times. "Pleaded. Filthy Muggle mummy was worried about her poor baby Remus."

Icicles. Ice, ice, ice - it was winter, and he was part of the snow, cold and lonely and unforgiving. His wand was but an extension of him, another arm that he needed to defeat Gibbon with. A Stupefy, at the same time as Peter cast one. He could only deflect one, and turning slightly to Peter, Gibbon wordlessly waved his wand -

And was caught with the brunt of Remus's spell, stunned. Remus breathed in, letting the sting of the cold London air pierce his chest for only a brief moment before widening his sight. Dolohov had blasted a piece of a statue of the Virgin Mary outside the Basilica, but was too busy to try and attempt to do anything else.

James and Sirius were a well-rounded team; they'd always worked together. In practice, he'd always admired the swift way Sirius moved, as if he _had _only two seconds to do everything he needed to.

Now was not the time. He backed up Marlene and Dorcas, dueling a vicious and most probably mad MacNair, who growled and laughed devilishly.

Red, green, yellow, blue. A show of deadly fireworks. Back and forth, back and forth. Another green, the crowd oohing and aahing. That red one was nice. Look, look! Look, Mum, at that blue one!

"Stetson!" Marlene exclaimed. It had been Sirius and the twins' idea to come up with code words for spells they needed to attempt in unison, and they had names of all sorts, ranging from Stetson to Feather Boa to Sonic Screwdriver.

A purple light blasted from the end of Remus, Peter, Marlene and Dorcas's wand, encompassing MacNair. His knees jerked, and he dropped his wand as he froze from bottom to top.

Marlene stepped back in satisfaction. Remus turned around - there was Fabian and Gideon, battling that unknown one, the one who's identity was concealed.

It all seemed to happen slowly - Dolohov was Stupefied, and there was only one left. One against eight. He saw Marlene first, and casted it quickly and silently, a yellow light that had no one doubting what it was. _Crucio._

Marlene screamed in pain. Momentarily distracted, the Death Eater was caught off-guard when James bound him and stunned him.

The spell wore off, but Marlene was unresponsive, stumbling on her two feet before collapsing face-first onto the sharp, jagged edge of the piece of the statue Dolohov had blasted off.

There was never a mission without repercussions.

As the eldest, Fabian and Gideon took charge. "Black and Lupin - you two Apparate her to the safe zone. Medical service."

"Meadowes and Pettigrew, to the Headquarters. Dumbledore's waiting." Two nods.

"The rest of us will be dealing with the Aurors and getting these four a one-way ticket to Azkaban."

Remus ran towards her, sinking to his knees and gently turning her over. She had horrific cuts all over her face, gouges from passing out and falling on top of the blood-covered smashed piece of statue.

Sirius inhaled sharply. Healing was far past any of their abilities, and Molly Weasley would be able to do the job.

"Marlene," he whispered. No response. Remus held his fingers at the base of her throat, relief flooding his every bone as he detected a pulse underneath it. She was breathing steadily, proof that she would be okay.

Sirius clutched Remus' shoulder, even through the layers of robes hot skin against hot skin in the swirling snowstorm of London's winter.

"Careful," murmured Remus. Sirius made sure all three were secured. Him, being the better Apparater, landed just outside the safe zone for the Burrow - two feet, to be exact. They stepped in quickly. Although snow was still stuck to the ground, they could feel the warm bubble of the wards protecting them.

"Molly! Arthur!" They called out. Marlene was stirring in their arms, and they set her down, supported her between their two figures.

Arthur was the first one outside, boots on hurriedly and wand at the ready.

"What prank did you, Sirius Black, play the first time you met my wife?"

"I charmed all of her underpants bright pink." Arthur nodded, and turned to Remus.

"I hate to do this," the man said, "but you two out of all people know that it's necessary. You could be anyone. Remus Lupin, which OWL did you graduate with an Exceeds Expectations with?"

"Muggle Music," said Remus.

"Bring her in," said Arthur hurriedly. "Molly!"

"Coming, dear! Just let me put Fred and George -"

"Not time for that! Injury, Molly," he said, and as a slowly stirring Marlene was placed on the sofa of the Burrow.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, as his heavily pregnant wife bustled around the room with her wand ready, healing and murmuring under her breath.

"Basilica St. Peter Mission. Got all four of them," summarized Remus. The adrenaline was still settling in his bones, a throbbing of his veins and the itching feeling to go out and fight more, do more, help more. Remus could feel Sirius close by his side, the warmth of his body next to his. There it was, that warmness that he caused, the inexplicable feeling of safety and security. It invaded the cold, numbing feeling that was beginning to sweep over him, after all of the dueling and planning had ended.

"Will she be okay?" asked Sirius.

"Of course," said Molly, warmly, dabbing at Marlene's face with something. "She'll be okay, strong girl. Not life-threatening, but these injuries could come with some repercussions, especially to her eyesight," sighed Molly.

"You've done the best you can, Molly," said Arthur. The scream of a child came from above, and Arthur disappeared to tend to it. "Go back to headquarters, and take the assumption with you that no news is good news. As soon as Molly deems it safe enough for her to leave, she'll be free to go."

:.:

Remus swallowed his words as they left the Burrow. Usually, they'd speak about the success of the mission, how another four Death Eaters were going to Azkaban. A little closer to final success.

But the words were stuck in his throat, and he hated himself for it.

"It's only six o'clock, and I'm knackered," Sirius yawned. Remus nodded.

"I'm just going to crash at headquarters," he muttered. "You coming?"

Remus could say no, and he could be left alone to the wave of his own thoughts, currently wrecking havoc upon the mess of his mind. But he could go with Sirius and talk, maybe, and hear someone else's breathing in the room with him like he did for seven years at Hogwarts. And it wouldn't be much, but he wouldn't be alone. The numbness the death of his parents was causing him was utterly terrifying, and he couldn't stop it - it rushed over him like a tidal wave, sweeping him away with no mercy.

Sirius was a great friend. Of course, this news wasn't new - they'd all became honest to Merlin Animagi in their fourth year, just because of Remus's "furry little problem". But never leaving him alone, dragging him out of his thoughts despite the fact that Sirius could just as easily ignore him...

Well, James was there, too. Not in the same way that Sirius was, though. He had a pregnant wife to look after, and he was still dealing with the death of his parents.

Unwavering dedication. Wasn't that a Hufflepuff trait? But Remus knew, of course, that things weren't black and white. Not just this and that. He knew that. It was a fact, embedded deep down in him.

:.:

They were almost asleep when Sirius started talking.

"Moony?" He whispered.

The nickname felt like a whispered secret. "Padfoot."

"I'm sorry," he said. Remus was confused; whatever did he have to be sorry for? He hadn't done anything, had he?

"What for?"

But Sirius had fallen asleep in the middle of his confession, leaving Remus to curse his ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat and also wonder what Sirius was sorry about.

:.:

Remus awoke with hair tickling his face, and he had the oddest urge to sneeze all over the hair that was tickling his nose.

So he did.

"Ew," muttered the owner of the hair, jerking up straight.

"Oh, sorry," Remus said, not sounding very remorseful.

"Git," mumbled Sirius. "I was just waking you up, useless prat, to tell you that Dorcas made the most _fantastic_ breakfast this morning."

"Aren't you always thinking of food?" Remus grumbling, not quite awake - the broodiness that had become normal in the last week or so had left.

"Ha, ha," said Sirius, sarcastically. "C'mon," he changed his tone to whinging. "My stomach is going to consume itself. It's an epidemic."

"Melodramatic," Remus mumbled, swinging his legs off the bed. "Serves you right, dangling your greasy mane in my face."

"Greasy?" exclaimed Sirius. "No, sir, I think you're mistaken. I am not Snivellus. If you ask nicely, though, he might just _dangle his greasy mane _in your face."

Remus grumbled before exiting the kitchen.

He was met with a happy Dorcas in the kitchen of the headquarters, cooking another batch of scrambled eggs on a pan.

"Good morning," she said, chipper. Remus nodded, feeling exhaustion creep onto him, which made absolutely no sense. They had slept a great thirteen hours. Maybe it was just the grogginess of waking up.

Remus served himself breakfast. There was no one at headquarters, except for the three of them.

"How's Marlene?" Sirius asked.

"Fine. No vision loss, one hundred percent back to normal," said Dorcas, grinning. "You two are supposed to stay here until James and Lily come." Sirius joined in, smiling, and even Remus couldn't help, smiling softly at the fact that his friend and colleague was unharmed from the toiling events of yesterday.

Dorcas had went up to one of the spare bedrooms to "clean herself up and return to Fabian," she'd said, leaving Sirius and Remus alone.

A thought jolted through Remus. A hazy memory of last night.

"What were you sorry for?" asked Remus.

Sirius didn't catch on.

"Last night... you said you were sorry. Why?" asked Remus. Sirius blinked, and then finally understood.

"Oh," said Sirius. It was the first time he had ever seen Sirius look nervous. "No reason. Just needed to... get something off my mind." Balancing his plate of breakfast on his lap, on the sofa next to Remus, Sirius shuffled awkwardly.

It was such a foreign look on his face, Remus was taken aback. "Are you feeling okay, Padfoot?"

"Yeah, just peachy," Sirius said, in an obviously fake joking tone. Remus nodded, not quite swayed, and returned to picking at the breakfast on his plate, remembering.

His mother, cooking her special sunny-side up eggs on a Saturday morning. The smell of the Muggle coffee-maker that had always terrifying his father. Remus ran a hand through his hair; he felt like he was getting old prematurely. The weight of the world and the war was beating him down.

"I know you're thinking of them," said Sirius. "It's bloody obvious."

Remus sat up straighter, not quite catching the first part of Sirius' sentence. "What?"

"You get all morose, mate. Your face falls, and -" he shook his head, stopping in his tracks. "Fuck."

The curse word sounded foreign to his ears. Remus looked at Sirius, who looked down and stuffed more egg into his mouth, no doubt to get around the talking.

"I just don't like seeing you like that, miserable," he said, in a detached sort of tone, like he was holding something back.

Remus turned his head and looked at him. He was letting his shaggy, long-ish hair cover his face, slouching his shoulders over his meal. Something had changed, and he knew they both felt it. The touches - reassuring or a helping hand. The words, the nicknames that feel locked up and secretive, only safe in the other's mouth. There is something that has changed, and they both feel it. A shift in the atmosphere. Something else entirely.

"It's different," Sirius said, hollowly, "this is different. It isn't the same as before, when all four of us were mates. It's becoming James and I, best mates, and you and I, something else."

"I know," Remus said, only those two words because he doesn't have the ability to put the unsaid secrets they share, the touches, into words. He doesn't know how to. He knows - they probably both know - what they are both trying to say. He can feel it. Now that it's confronting them, Remus doesn't know what to do.

There was a pause.

"I don't regret it," Sirius said strongly. "I'm not regretting whatever has... changed. I can tell you why... why I'm saying sorry, but you might just tell me I'm fucking mental and ship me off to St. Mungo's."

"You already are mental, mate," Remus said, managing to keep a straight face.

"Very reassuring." Sirius's response was laced with underlying sarcasm.

"You know what I'm going to say, Moony."

"I do."

It was a thing that did not need to be said; it couldn't be expressed in words, just like a picture couldn't. You can't really explain emotions or feelings or whatever the hell this was properly, not without botching it up.

"I'm sorry about how I feel. For... you. Not a friend, but more of a different kind of friend..." It was budding, tentative, and Remus understood. Nothing was set in steel. But he understood.

Remus shocked himself when he spoke. "Time is fleeting. We're going to die someday, and there's going to be no going back and saying it earlier, so..."

The twenty-year-old cleared the last of his bacon from his plate. "So we both know."

"Yeah. We do."

This was grey and confusing, too, just like the halting death of his parents. But this kind of grey was the light kind, like the last of the storm clouds rolling out of the sky. Sirius and Remus stay silent.

"Oh, Merlin," Sirius groaned, stretching his legs out. "Dorcas has _got _to make breakfast everyday. I will die a happy man if I could have this breakfast every morning."

Like she'd been called, Dorcas entered the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed. "I'm off, to home. You're very welcome, by the way," she said, winking cheerily at the two of them.

"Tomorrow?" asked Sirius, pulling a puppy-dog face. Remus smiled slightly.

"That face doesn't work on me, Black," said Dorcas. "You get points for trying, though."

Sirius grinned at Remus.

* * *

a/n - Written through the Pairing One Hour Challenge - or, in my case, writing 4k in three hours. Also for the Gift Giving Extravaganza, for Cassie. I hope you enjoy it, love! For the Fanfiction Scavenger Hunt, as well. :) Reviews are, as always, appreciated!


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